three isn't done yet.

one

she saw your moment of truth, as she pressed gently her thumb against the penciled lines that you drew carefully years before, when the blank white page left too much space for endless red. as charcoal smears to grey with the moisture of an anxious thumb, your eyes shift inward to the vibrant shades contaminating undefined grey. your lungs filled with fear and your heart filled with an array of something unfamiliar. she remains steady with her fingers now pressed to that spot behind your ear that draws your eyes downward. ruthless, she struggles to find the vibrant permanence behind your eyelids. even from her distance sitting next to you, she can feel your shaky breath gracing the tip of her nose in short, nervous warmth and she realizes your slipping. she lowers her hand to the tops of your knuckles while turning over clammy fingers to fit between hers. and then, an instant flash of green, penetrating the grey monotany of shadows and eyelids. your eyes shift to your hands interlocked with hers and back again to the blue glimmer staining your vision. and, in a moment, a breath of air covers her face in comfortable warmth as your lungs collapse.

two

you woke with the sun infusing depth into a new vision of shapes and colors. as quickly as your lungs collapsed is the likeness in which they fill, nearly combusting with supernatural strength. with each breath, a blinking snapshot of blinding images framed by the pitch darkness of the previous night. Your own shade of green shifting left to the undefined form of the one who'd blurred your defiance. craving a perfect exhale, you move towards the door as you pull the knit around your neck up to block the steam from your mouth. your feet slide over a blanket of icy white while quivering fingers wrap themselves around loose threads in worn out pockets as you move towards the sliding door, reflecting your face against the facees of those behind it. and, in the likeness of your fleeting breath, the reflection is gone as you move forward to join foriegn faces. and then, collapsing on metal, you've dissapeared, escaping into the colorless murmer of the lives existing around you. while prying tiny strands of wool from wet lips, you begin to retrace lines underneath what's left of smeared charcoal. and, in a moment, a breath of air covers your face in comfortable warmth as your lungs collapse.